


draw me after you; let us run

by peacefrog



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacefrog/pseuds/peacefrog
Summary: The motel off the interstate was fully booked, save for one room.“It’s a single,” said the woman behind the counter.





	draw me after you; let us run

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the six month gap between seasons one and two.

The motel off the interstate was fully booked, save for one room.

“It’s a single,” said the woman behind the counter.

Marcus sighed and took the key. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” said Tomas.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tomas.”

How long had it been since they’d rested? A day or two that felt like years. Marcus’ hands ached. There was blood on the tops of his shoes.

Tomas dropped his bag down next to the bed and got into the shower. Marcus washed his face and his hands in the little sink, then changed his clothes and crawled into bed.

He hadn’t had his eyes closed for five minutes when the bed creaking and dipping beside him pulled Marcus from his half-sleep. 

“You’re going to make me share a bed with you unwashed?” Tomas asked, smiling a little in the lamplight.

“You and I have shared much worse these past few months.”

“Still…”

“I changed my clothes and washed my hands. Lie down, Tomas.”

The bed was plenty wide for two grown men, but still Tomas’ shoulder knocked against Marcus’ beneath the covers. Tomas turned on his side and faced Marcus in the dim light.

“We almost lost that boy today,” said Tomas.

“But we didn’t,” said Marcus, curving his body to face Tomas. “And that we didn’t is all that matters.”

As easy silence stretched between them. Their eyes met more than they didn’t. And then Tomas asked, “When was the last time you shared a bed with another person?”

“Not long for you,” said Marcus. “A little longer in my case, but not as long as you may think. We’ve all had our share of… indiscretions.”

“What was her name?”

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. He shut his eyes and breathed in deep. “His name was Edgar,” he said, daring to open his eyes. Tomas’ face was soft and unmoving. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

Marcus searched Tomas’ face for some sign, something for which he had no words. And there couldn’t be words, could there? Not for the longing nor the pathetic grain of hope he found himself clinging to every time Tomas caught his eye.

And like a schoolboy Marcus began to blush, averting his gaze. “Shut off the lamp, please,” he whispered.

Tomas reached over, shut off the lamp, sighed. “Goodnight, Marcus,” he whispered, his body still curving in toward the center of the bed. Toward Marcus.

“Goodnight,” Marcus whispered in reply, and like a sinking stone he fell into a heavy sleep.

—

God came to Marcus in his dreams. Every night for a month—on the nights he slept at all—he dreamed of a light, pulsing and blue, and in the center was a pit. A stone. It was smooth in Marcus’ hands. And as he held it in his hands he was given answers to questions he never thought to ask. 

And when he would wake his hands were empty, always empty, the answers lost like raindrops to the sea.

—

Marcus woke to something warm at his throat. Warm and wet. Tomas’ mouth sucking a kiss into the hollow there, his body pressed tightly against Marcus beneath the covers.

“Tomas,” Marcus breathed out into the dark. “I thought myself alone in my longing.”

“How can you be alone,” Tomas panted out, pulling back, “when I am here with you.”

In the blue-dark of the room, Marcus took Tomas’ face in his hands, and kissed him gently as rain against the petals of a flower. Tomas’ stubble was rough in his hands. Marcus kissed him harder.

Beneath the covers the curve of Tomas’ erection pressed against Marcus’ hip. Marcus choked on words forming on his tongue, and Tomas swallowed them down.

“You can’t,” said Marcus, finally, into the crooked of Tomas’ neck. “You can’t…”

“God brought me to you,” said Tomas. “He wants us to be together.”

Marcus closed his eyes and saw the light there, the same brilliant blue as his dreams, warm on his face. He reached out for the stone in the center and when he opened his eyes Tomas’ face was beneath his hand, smiling.

And then Tomas was sucking kisses into his throat again. And beneath the covers his hands pulled both their cocks from their pants with no hesitation. And Tomas took them both in his strong hand and worked them quickly toward an edge they’d been teetering upon for months. 

Marcus’ toes curled into the mattress. Tomas finished first, with a gasp against Marcus’ lips. He finished Marcus off with his own release covering them both, sticky and warm in the panting darkness.

“Tomas,” Marcus breathed out when they were through, their chests heaving and bodies heavy with exhaustion. He brushed his fingers through Tomas’ hair. He pressed a kiss to his damp brow.

“Are you sure you won’t consider that shower now?” Tomas laughed.

“If you think I’m leaving this bed, you’re madder than I ever imagined.”

Tomas smiled through the dark, and pulled Marcus in to lie against his chest. Marcus sighed, nestling into the very center of Tomas’ chest, his t-shirt damp beneath Marcus’ face. His heart thumped and then stilled to a gentle rhythm, a melody that quickly pulled Marcus down into sleep.

Marcus didn’t dream of God, nor did he see the light. He dreamed of a hand in his own, smooth as a wave-tossed stone. A hand that reached for him through darkness. A smile upon lips clever as any demon that would dare possess, but pure as God’s own divinity.

He dreamed long and hard and gently, and when he woke Tomas was there, smiling as dawn broke through the cracks in the curtains. He felt for Tomas’ hand beneath the covers, brought it up to his lips, kissed every knuckle.

“I think I’d like that shower now,” Marcus said, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Tomas smiled, rolling Marcus over, pinning him to the mattress with the full weight of his body. “I think I’d like to join you,” he said.

Marcus smiled up at Tomas, his gentle eyes, his stubbled face. And when they kissed, the warmth of God flowed through them.


End file.
